


Thicker Than Water (red as a rose)

by PotterheadAvengerDemigod



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Robin, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, DaddyBats, Dick Grayson is Robin, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Robin, Kinda, Team, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team Fluff, Team as Family, Whump, hints of - Freeform, kinda deviated into hints of birdflash so, um, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-04 20:19:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10998255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotterheadAvengerDemigod/pseuds/PotterheadAvengerDemigod
Summary: Dick's used to being injured. Doesn't mean the team has to be.EDIT (01/07/17):Now including a BirdFlash alternate ending!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I kinda went into this with the mindset of "how much can I injure robin without him dying" but rest assured its not actually gory or anything (to be honest it doesn't even seem like a very big thing because Dick insists on downplaying it haha). But yeah, it kind of deviated a little into Wally being way to emotional because I mean, bros right? (also Birdflash is cute, just throwing that out there).  
> Enjoy!

It starts out as any other routine mission.

And, as any other routine mission goes, deteriorates rapidly until what was meant to be covert quickly becomes overt, as Robin would say.

Really, there’s little to no point in telling the team that a mission is covert. No matter what type of villain they investigate, the one thing that remains constant is that everything always goes to hell in a handbasket faster than even Wally can run.

In this case, they’re investigating a drug cartel that Batman suspects has ties to one of main mobs in Gotham. While the Bat would usually handle things like this on his own, or pull Robin from the team temporarily to back him up, even the Batman knows what it’s like to have been cooped up in headquarters without a mission for months on end.

So they’re camped in Gotham's neighbouring city of  Blüdhaven, because even now Batman’s no-metas rule holds. They’re perched on the catwalks of one of the city’s many abandoned warehouses, watching the bad guys debate their next drug exchange. The leader of the cartel appears to be a heavyset man with light brown hair, dressed from head to toe in Kevlar. Even the lower ranking goons are dressed in bulletproof material, and it seems  _ way _ too overkill for what should be a simple drug cartel, but it only confirms the fact that this isn’t your average run-of-the-mill mob.

It takes approximately twenty minutes for something to go wrong; the longest time they’ve gone without trouble, in fact. And it’s not even Wally who blows their cover this time. It’s M’gann this time, when she gets a tad too upset at the cavalier way the men are discussing the addictive effects of their drug and how it affects its takers. She accidentally lets out a short telekinetic burst, small and quickly reigned in, but enough that the guys on the ground immediately notice.

Guns are aimed and fired in their direction before the team can even blink, and they thank God that it’s dark enough up on the catwalks that the men can’t see them, because they’re just shooting at shadows that they can barely make out. That’s probably saving their lives right now.

Conner has M’gann sheltered behind him as bullets ricochet off his skin, similar to how Robin’s shielding both himself and Wally behind his cape, and Kaldur has his water bearers forming a shield that protects Artemis and himself. The gunfire ceases after a while, the leader barking at his men to find out who was spying on them, and the team takes the chance to get down to ground level and make themselves known.

Robin makes a beeline for their computer, because if they can’t get the information they came for from the criminals’ discussion, then he’s going for their computer data.

The rest of the team are busy dealing with the goons, M’gann throwing item after item at the men, back to back with Artemis who’s shooting arrow after arrow, from explosives that threaten to send the building up in flames to ones that burst into mountains of foam, engulfing enemies and trapping them, temporary though it is.

Wally is busy avoiding being shot as most of the men focus on trying to corner the speedster, bullets flying as Wally pushes himself faster and faster, fast enough that the bullets are slow around him, still moving, but he’s going fast enough that he can avoid them.

All the team are tied up in their own battles, Conner facing off against what must be at least of third of the men, barely holding his own.

It should be an easy battle, but for every one man that the team takes down, another two seems to spring up. There’s enough men that even unenhanced as they are, the bad guys are still more than a match for the team, threatening to overrun the teen heroes by sheer number alone.

It’s only when a voice shouts, “Got it!” before Robin’s signature cackle echoes through the warehouse that the tide starts to turn slowly.

Robin stores the data carefully and joins the battle, ignoring his throbbing side, from where the impact of one of Artemis’s explosive arrows, landing a tad too close for comfort, had thrown him unceremoniously against the computer console moments before. He joins the fight with a simple roundhouse kick to the nearest goon’s head, sending the man down before he stamps down on the man’s hand with increasing pressure, forcing him let go of his gun or risk breaking his fingers.

There’s someone sneaking up behind him, trying to catch him by surprise, but Robin’s been in the business long enough that he can hear the too soft tread of combat boots on concrete ground, the too gentle, too controlled sounds of footfalls that should have been inaudible to anyone save maybe Superboy or Superman. He spins, pivoting sharply on his heel, and a split second later there’s a birdarang flying through the air, embedding itself in the man’s bulletproof vest and exploding a second after impact, sending both said man and the other goon beside him flying backwards into the wall, crumpling into a heap, down for the count.

But Robin doesn’t count on the fact that one of the goons had managed to press down on the trigger a second before the birdarang detonated, and he doesn’t feel the burn of pain of a bullet forcing its way into his flesh until his hand lifts to grab another birdarang from his belt and his fingers brush warm, sticky fluid.

Then the pain floods in, and it’s like all his pain receptors have been nonfunctional until this very minute, when everything flares to life in a startling, debilitating burst of agony. But Dick grits his teeth and assesses the damage, determining that it’s only a surface wound, the bullet having been drastically impeded by the thickness of his armour. It’s still lodged in his side, buried in the skin of his waist, but it’s nowhere near any major organs or blood vessels, and as long as he does some quick triage to wrap up the wound until he can get better treatment, he shouldn’t be in any danger.

A quick bandage later Robin’s back out in the field again, ignoring the burning in his side that flares up when he pulls at the muscle, flipping and spinning and launching off his hands.

Kaldur’s voice comes echoing through their mind-link then, calling for a strategic retreat to protect the information that they came for. But Robin’s too far into the warehouse to make it out like the others can, and it takes him far longer to make his way out of the building than the rest of his team.

He fights his way through the bad guys, Artemis’s arrows arcing over his head and helping somewhat, Wally darting around him and punching out villains faster than Robin can blink, but even with all the help from his teammates, there’s still too many enemies.

He bends over backwards to dodge the bullet that comes flying his way, folding himself almost in half before he springs back up on his hands, his foot flying up and nailing a goon in the jaw, the resulting crack making Robin wince as the guy’s jaw dislocates.

He flips back upright and pulls his escrima sticks from his belt, snapping them out and pushing the buttons that send electricity crackling across the metal surface. He jabs the stick into the side of the man nearest to him, between the hem of the bulletproof vest and the heavy-duty pants, and while the action sends the man down, twitching uncontrollably, it also leaves Robin wide open for the guy who sneaks up on him, winding him with a sharp uppercut to the diaphragm and following up with a resounding blow to the cheek that Dick’s pretty sure partially dislocates his jaw. But it’s not the jaw he’s worried about. He’s worried about the fact that he felt something snap when the guy had punched him in the torso, and Dick knows that the last two ribs -the floating ribs- are the easiest to fracture. It’s not the first time he’s dealt with fractured ribs -far from it-, but there’s always the danger that it’s not just a crack and is actually a complete break, which means that he could potentially be seconds away from drowning in his own blood.

He focuses just long enough to determine that he’s not in any immediate danger before he simply ignores the flare of pain from both the fractured ribs and the sloppily bandaged bullet wound and jerks his elbow back suddenly, too fast for the guy to react in time, the sudden elbow to the gut followed by a hard swing of his escrima stick to the head sending the man down.

Then he’s under gunfire again, and if it wasn’t for his bulletproof cape and Miss M’s quick reflexes in turning away most of the bullets, Robin would have been riddled with more holes than a slice of swiss cheese. He’s slowly but surely making his way out to the entrance now, Artemis and Miss M providing cover fire while Kaldur, Wally and Conner beat off the goons with their fists and, in Kaldur’s case, water bearers in the form of swords. They’re making good headway, and Robin can’t help but think that maybe they’re going to get out of this mission with enough members of the team unscathed to call it an almost full success.

Of course, that’s when Wally lets out a sharp cry of pain and Dick’s sprinting across the room to the speedster, who’d taken a bullet to the thigh, not enough to prevent him from running, and thankfully nowhere close to the femoral artery, but sudden and painful enough that Wally’s temporarily stunned. Dick stands over Wally’s downed form, birdarangs flying as the bad guys come ever closer, and he’s never been so grateful for Wally’s enhanced healing as the speedster clambers to his feet after barely half a minute of shock, the growing circle of red on his yellow suit already slowing.

Of course, that split second of relief is repaid in the knife that Robin takes to the arm.

He cries out, and the pain is intense, nothing worse than what he’d faced dealing with Gotham’s worst, but even then it burns, acute and radiating and enough that Dick can feel his body slowly going into shock. Added onto the cracked ribs, bruised hip, dislocated jaw and bullet wound, it’s almost enough to send even the stubborn Boy Wonder down. But Dick takes as deep of a breath as he dares to and pushes the pain to the back of his mind, ignoring Wally’s concerned yell and barely managing to take out the bad guy closest to him before the world spins around him and black spots dance across his vision.

Damn. Looks like that knife had actually hit something important.

Dick knows what it’s like to bleed out, and these are definitely the very first symptoms of blood loss.

His knees give out, vision fading in and out, but even then he fights for consciousness, because if he goes down he’ll be even more of a burden to the team than he already is in his weakened state.

And that’s when he feels fabric-clad arms scooping him up, and he recognises the feel of silicon-strengthened spandex underneath his hands, the hard edges of a circular emblem pressing into his cheek as he leans his head against a slim chest.

“‘M fine, KF,” he slurs, trying to squirm his way out of Wally’s tight grip. “I can walk by m’self. N’t some damsel in distress.”

“Save it for when you’re not bleeding out all over my costume, Rob,” is Wally’s sardonic reply, and then Dick blinks and they’re back in Mount Justice, and he’s lying on a thin mattress with stiff, starched covers. His arm bandaged as well as can be expected and his torso is wrapped up, the ache in his cheek telling him that the team managed to relocate his jaw while he was out.

“You’re safe, Dick,” Wally’s voice murmurs. “We got the data we needed, mission’s a success.”

“Ev’ryone safe? Y’r leg okay?” Dick forces out, and Wally chuckles wryly.

“You’re the only one with noteworthy injuries, you self-sacrificing idiot.”

“The mission is first priority,” Dick answers, and Wally grimaces in reply.

“There is no way anyone would want you this injured just to complete a mission. Bats would have our heads for even  _ letting _ you get this injured.”

“S’rry,” he mumbles, feeling the strength slowly leaving his body as his vision begins blurring again.

“It is not your fault, Robin,” Kaldur’s deep baritone sounds, and Dick’s mind clears slightly as a small part of his brain snaps to attention at the different voice. “We could not have completed this mission without you, and the team would definitely have been far more injured than we are if you had not been present.

“If anything,” Kaldur continues, and there’s something hurt in the older boy’s expression that raises Dick’s hackles. “It would be my fault. I was leader, and I sent you in without anyone watching your back. I let you go deep into enemy territory without ensuring that one of our own followed behind, and your injuries are on my shoulders. It is I who should be blamed. Forgive me, my friend.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dick can see Wally gaping at Kaldur, eyes wide, and inwardly Robin can’t help but mimic the speedster’s expression. Honestly, in what  _ world _ would it have been Kaldur’s fault that Robin had a tendency to run off like a solo act? Ha. It would sooner have been Artemis’s or M’gann’s fault that Robin had gotten injured, and the girls hadn’t even come anywhere  _ near _ him the entire battle.

The anger that surges through Dick shakes him from the daze the painkillers have him under, and his eyes are narrowed under his mask, eyebrow arched and lips twisted.

“Kaldur, that’s nonsense and you know it. How is it your fault tha-”

“Come on, Kal, saying you’re at fault for Rob getting injured is like saying it’s my fault for getting shot,” Wally cuts in. “I mean, technically I have even more to do with Rob getting injured than you. It  _ was _ me who got shot and who Rob tried to protect. I mean, if we’re looking at people to blame, Rob literally got stabbed because of me.”

It’s only the fact that one of Dick’s arms is completely swathed in bandages and that the other one is hooked up to both a blood bag and an IV that prevents Dick from reaching up and rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. He thought he’d seen all there was to see about self-blame and putting way too much pressure on yourself -he grew up with  _ Batman _ , what did you expect?- but apparently this team was trying to give even the Dark Knight a run for his money.

“Guys,” Robin starts, and the utter exasperation that colours his tone makes them both turn to him, unexpectedly sheepish expressions on their faces. “It’s none of your faults. Full stop. No arguments necessary. Any disagreements can be emailed to me at robin01@idontcare.com.”

Wally barks out a short laugh at the made up email address while Kaldur just shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Duly noted,” the Atlantean says, chuckling softly. “It is true that trying to shoulder the blame will not help anyone. You should focus on recovery, I will tell the team that you are doing better- they have been waiting for news that you are alright.”

“Way to stay traught, Kal,” Robin says, grinning, and the team leader acknowledges the comment with a shrug before turning and leaving the room.

The moment Kaldur takes his leave Robin sobers slightly and turns to Wally, lips pursed slightly. “You sure your leg’s fine, Walls?”

“Dude, super healing, remember? Once they got the bullet out it healed over fine. Didn’t hit anything major anyway- which is more than I can say for your arm, man. You almost bled out on the bioship, y’know that?”

Dick shrugs, and then suppresses a wince when the movement jolts his ribs. “Not the worst I’ve gotten, Walls.”

“Hey,” Wally says, lifting a single shoulder up in a shrug and raising his hands in mock-surrender. “Didn’t say it was. Just that even then you shouldn’t be this hurt. We’re a team, Dick. It isn’t right that you took the brunt of the injury while the rest of us walked away practically unscathed.”

“I should have been bet-”

“Don’t you dare, Richard Grayson,” the redheaded speedster flat out hisses, and Dick knows that Wally can be serious, is actually far from the joking airhead he pretends to be, but the outright aggression in those five words startles even the Boy Wonder in silence.

“Okay, okay,” Dick sooths when he finally gathers his wits. “I won’t.”

And then Wally’s suddenly sitting on the bed next to him, and there’s an absentminded finger tracing the surgical tape that holds the IV needle in place on his wrist.

“I just-” Wally starts, chewing at his lower lip. “Just- I’ve never really lost people before, you know. Like, the closest I’ve come to it was in that screwed up simulation where we all died, but even then it was… muted. Like, okay, they died, okay, everyone’s dead, Uncle Barry’s dead, Aunt Iris probably is, Artemis, Kaldur, Conner, the entire League. Everybody. But it was kind of just- it was just  _ there _ , you know? It was a fact, a statistic, something to be concerned about when there was actually time to think. But then we were going in on what I knew, on some subconscious level, would ultimately be a suicide mission, and I think maybe some part of me was okay with that. Because what was one more statistic among the rest? And a part of me was okay with dying if it meant the rest of you would be fine. I wasn’t outright lying when I told Canary I wasn’t affected. But sitting here, Dick, remembering when I was carrying you back to the bioship and when you were bleeding out, so close to dying in my arms, your blood staining my suit red and what it was like when we were desperately trying to stop you from bleeding out on the way back? That was real, Rob. And you were so close to dying, and you don’t even care. Even Bats was freaking out. I’ve never seen him look so worried. I’ve actually never seen him look anything but emotionless or annoyed, but that’s not the point. And I know you’ve had worse before -you live in  _ Gotham _ , you’re one of Gotham’s main protectors- but that doesn’t mean your injuries this time were any less serious than they were. Than they still are. And, dammit, Dick, I don’t want to lose you, okay? I don’t want to lose any of you. Ever.”

And then Robin does the unexpected, and all Wally can think is, “ _ Thank God none of the rest of the team have access to the security feed. _ ”

Because Robin pushes himself into an upright sitting position and peels off his mask. Bright blue eyes look up and Dick Grayson stares at Wally West, eyes sad but understanding.

“I’ll-” he starts, letting a soft smile pull at his lips. “I’ll try not to get hurt so often, yeah?”

Wally returns the shaky grin and nods, abruptly lunging forward and wrapping Dick in a hug, careful not to jolt any of his injuries.

“I’ll take it,” the speedster says, and his eyes are still vaguely teary, but the smile on his lips is growing, and Dick knows they’re going to be alright.


	2. Alternate Ending (BirdFlash)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the BirdFlash get together ending if anyone wants it! :)

“I should have been bet-”

“Don’t you dare, Richard Grayson,” the redheaded speedster flat out hisses, and Dick knows that Wally can be serious, is actually far from the joking airhead he pretends to be, but the outright aggression in those five words startles even the Boy Wonder in silence.

“Okay, okay,” Dick sooths when he finally gathers his wits. “I won’t.”

And then Wally’s suddenly sitting on the bed next to him, and there’s an absentminded finger tracing the surgical tape that holds the IV needle in place on his wrist.

“I just-” Wally starts, chewing at his lower lip. “Just- I’ve never really lost people before, you know. Like, the closest I’ve come to it was in that screwed up simulation where we all died, but even then it was… muted. Like, okay, they died, okay, everyone’s dead, Uncle Barry’s dead, Aunt Iris probably is, Artemis, Kaldur, Conner, the entire League. Everybody. But it was kind of just- it was just _there_ , you know? It was a fact, a statistic, something to be concerned about when there was actually time to think. But then we were going in on what I knew, on some subconscious level, would ultimately be a suicide mission, and I think maybe some part of me was okay with that. Because what was one more statistic among the rest? And a part of me was okay with dying if it meant the rest of you would be fine. I wasn’t outright lying when I told Canary I wasn’t affected. But sitting here, Dick, remembering when I was carrying you back to the bioship and when you were bleeding out, so close to dying in my arms, your blood staining my suit red and what it was like when we were desperately trying to stop you from bleeding out on the way back? That was real, Rob. And you were so close to dying, and you don’t even care. Even Bats was freaking out. I’ve never seen him look so worried. I’ve actually never seen him look anything but emotionless or annoyed, but that’s not the point. And I know you’ve had worse before -you live in _Gotham_ , you’re one of Gotham’s main protectors- but that doesn’t mean your injuries this time were any less serious than they were. Than they still are. And, dammit, Dick, I don’t want to lose you, okay? I don’t want to lose any of you. Ever.”

And then Robin does the unexpected, and all Wally can think is, “ _Thank God none of the rest of the team have access to the security feed._ ”

Because Robin pushes himself into an upright sitting position and peels off his mask. Bright blue eyes look up and Dick Grayson stares at Wally West, eyes sad but understanding.

“I’ll-” he starts, letting a soft smile pull at his lips. “I’ll try not to get hurt so often, yeah?”

Wally returns the shaky grin and nods, abruptly lunging forward and wrapping Dick in a hug, careful not to jolt any of his injuries.

The acrobat leans into his hug, cheek resting on Wally’s shoulder, bandaged arm shifted slightly to lie across the speedster’s waist. They both pull back from the embrace at the same time, and Dick’s blue eyes are shining, his uninjured hand coming up to stroke Wally’s cheek. The redhead jerks a little in shock at the caress, but otherwise doesn’t react negatively, pressing his cheek more firmly into the other boy’s calloused palm.

“I-” he starts, and then trails off when their gazes lock.

And now Wally’s _really, really_ thankful that no one else has access to the Mountain’s security feed, because Dick leans forward and before Wally can even blink, dry, chapped lips are pressed lightly to his own, a soft, chaste kiss before the other boy is pulling back, head ducked and cheeks flaring.

“I-” the speedster stutters, eyes wide. “Wh-”

Wally’s hand comes up without his volition, fingers trailing across his own closed lips, and he can still feel the echo of Dick’s lips on his own.

It’s not a bad feeling.

Dick’s head is still bent, but his eyes dart up to Wally’s face, startled and dazed.

“‘M s’rry,” he mumbles, and Wally looks at his best friend, his partner in not-really-crime, _his_ Robin, and he makes a decision.

He places a hand under Dick’s chin and lifts his head, their gazes meeting again, and then he closes the distance between them.

It’s not hot or passionate or any of those things that ~~Uncle Barry’s~~ Aunt Iris’s romance novels say it is, but it’s sweet and gentle and Dick’s lips are surprised and soft beneath his, and Wally thinks, “ _Yeah, I could get used to this.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! (If Dick seems a little ooc please keep in mind that he's only thirteen here and that was probably his first kiss)

**Author's Note:**

> First YJ fic, hope it's ok!
> 
> [My Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/_dreamdweller/)  
> Pop over and say hi!


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